Post the Incident or Otherwise Entitled: The Maris Effect
by WorldInvent
Summary: February fourteenth has Sarah Williams severely out of sorts and a Goblin King at odds with how to help her. Varying centuries provide different solutions: chocolates to bloodied pelts.


**Aw, what have we here? Yes, a little Valentine's Day inspired short. I am not sure if this will ever get visited again, but I needed to make myself giggle. And giggle I did, like a little school girl singing a Carl Davis tune. Which segues us into where the title of this little drama comes from: the sitcom Fraiser. Enjoy.**

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He kept to the shadows. There was no sense in startling the poor creature, or causing her further distress. At least not immediately, he mused as his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. A faint light coming in through the window collided with various obstacles, causing odd triangular pools of pale light. There was plenty that could cause a potential trip, items scattered haphazardly: a shoe there, a purse here, and a discarded article of clothing mixed in with the lot.

Something crinkled.

Jareth cocked his head and listened. The sound repeated its self. He took just two further steps into the bedroom before his eyes spotted a shiny, crumbled wrapping on the floor. He bent to retrieve it. It gleamed briefly, silver and moonlight. Raising it to his nose he sniffed, it was slightly sweet with a hint of bitterness. Curious he examined the floor again, and as he assumed he would, he found another and another. And yet still another- wrappers trailed across the floor, winding around the bed, creating a substantial pile on said bed, and then ending before the closet door. A line of yellow light leaked out from underneath.

It was from the other side of this partition that he heard more crinkling and a loud sniff. Resting his chin on the palm on his hand, Jareth deliberated what to do next. Just what was going on, on the other side of the door? He glanced back at the messy state of her room, and the trail of wrappers. Like a cat fascinated by the weird insect in its path, Jareth went for the handle of the closet and opened the door. There huddled on the ground, her knees bent up to her chest, nestled in between shoes and boxes, sat the object of his curiosity: Sarah Williams looked like a wounded animal, surrounded by many more shiny wrappers. The same sweet and bitter scent struck him hard.

"Now that," he began, putting a hand to his hip. "is a pathetic sight."

She sniffed loudly and regarded him with swollen eyes. From her lap she held up a plastic bag decorated in pinks and reds. He could just make out a smattering of heart decorations printed on the packaging. "My kryptonite," said Sarah as if confessing a sin to the priest. The bag slumped back in between her bent knees. And then with renewed sniffing, "Chocolate!"

Jareth watched her. An eyebrow quirked up. "Oh the facial blemishes that will come of this," he observed.

"I know!" she agreed, and as if her transgression of having holed herself up with a bag of candy wasn't enough she added, "And I had to buy it for myself!" She whined and proceeded to unwrap another.

Clearly this revelation was supposed to be distressing, but Jareth felt his curiosity pique once again and he felt he had to give the injured girl another nudge. "I thought you were dating someone?" he asked.

Chocolate had melted on her finger tips and coated her lips. Combined with the drippy nose and wet cheeks, she looked wholly and unabashedly miserable. "He dumped me," she stated darkly. She threw the now empty wrapper on the floor.

"I did try to warn you," he said leaning on the door jam. "I did not like him."

She shot him a scathing look. "But I liked him," she snapped back. "I just wanted a normal, special day! A day where I could be showered in attention and romance without fear of being attacked by anything goblinish or magical!"

"That only happened the one time," he chastised her, recalling the incident.

"Yeah, but once was enough," she retorted.

The incident in question had occurred two years ago and had thoroughly and completely established a change in their relationship. Where Sarah had once looked at him with a sort of romanticized fascination, as one would speculate whether the Scoville unit was worth the pain or not, now she regarded him with passing amusement and skepticism. Strictly platonic. And all thanks to that incident in particular.

Standing there looking at the sticky lipped , wet cheeked mess before him Jareth wondered not for the first time why he continued to check up on her. "Shall I pour you out another bag then?" he offered.

For a moment she looked ready to seriously consider it. "No," she said. And then with renewed disappoint, "Why did he have to dump me now? Right before today of all days?"

"What exactly is so special about today that you should require a man to buy you sweets, my sweet?" he asked.

She shifted, stretching out a leg. "Seriously? You don't know what today is?"

Jareth ran through the a calender in his head. "February fourteenth," he replied with a shrug.

"Right." Her eye brows rose up as if it should be obvious.

His brow pinched. "I didn't think anyone celebrated Lupercalia any more."

"Luper-what?"

"Lupercalia," he repeated. "A fertility festival that according to the ancient Roman calender would fall today."

"Ah- ancient Rome." She nodded as her face relaxed in understanding. "Well according to the modern day calendar, it is Valentine's Day."

Jareth snapped his fingers. "Wrong century," he remarked. Time slippage happened, a byproduct of living forever and being able to reorder things. He shrugged it off.

From her nest of candied wrappers and shoes Sarah asked, "How did one celebrate Lupercalia?"

"Well let me think," he took a deep breath and rested his chin his palm once again. "There would be an animal sacrifice, usually goat, and then the single young women of the community would be slapped with their bloody pelts."

Sarah scrunched up her nose. "How romantic," she observed flatly reaching into her bag of chocolates.

"It worked wonders for their libidos." He observed her slight flush to her cheeks and he continued with relish, "Couples were then paired off in a sort of raffle and were expected to be fruitful and multiply. Which is also Valentine's Day's culmination, if memory serves me right."

"All the same I'll stick with chocolate, thanks."

"You say chocolate, they say blood… Potato/po _tato."_

She sniffed. "When in Rome and all that…"

He hummed in affirmation.

Sarah began toying with the unwrapped piece of candy. "Did you ever participate in any of these _raffles_?" she asked.

To his ears it had sounded like an all too casual inquiry. There was something there that suggested the old Sarah, the one before the incident that would fantasize about the goings on of the Fae. Or the topic at hand was simply playing with his own imagination. "While I am not opposed to the general exchanging of bodily fluids that coupling implies," he answered. "Blood is not really my scene; easily stains. Now." He paused and stood up straight. Reaching down he gripped her wrists, her look was both one of surprise and gratefulness. "Out of this closet you ridiculous creature." With a firm yank, he had her hoisted out from the depths of her sad little nest.

"Or what, you'll slap me with a bloody pelt?" she challenged snarkily.

"It wouldn't be wise to tempt anyone to slap you," he replied. He plucked the bag of candy from her eager hands. "Enough of these. No boy, mortal or otherwise, is worthy of this much wallowing." With a flourish of his hand, he brought forth a soft white piece of linen. "Wipe your nose," he then ordered her.

She did so and even blew into it for good measure. "Thanks," she said. And then, "If you were going to plan a romantic date, how would you?"

Jareth fixed her with a probing look. "I believe you already know the answer to that question. There was a time when you knew very well what my intentions were. But then…" His voice trailed and he tilted his head to fill in the blank.

Her eyes examined the soiled handkerchief. "Yes and then. Never mind," she amended, shaking her head. "It was a stupid question. I'm just… in a mood. Today being Valentine's and the breakup, I'm just feeling," Her eyes went up searching for the right word.

"Underwhelmed?" he offered.

She clicked her tongue and shook her head.

"Unfulfilled? Inadequate?"

Sarah raised a finger. "I think the word I'm looking for is: annoyed. Very annoyed."

He alighted on the perfect word, "Exasperated?"

Sarah gave one sharp nod of her chin. "Yes, that's the word." And then with less enthusiasm, "And a little disappointed too I guess."

"I must do something about these mortal boys disappointing my champion," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm good."

"Really? I just had the oubliette refurbished, fresh spider webs and a new coating of dust. It would leave quite the impression on these insensitive little sods that you keep entangling yourself with."

"At least these sods don't keep chickens as pets and let them roam freely about their home," she retorted. "Where they might startle a poor unsuspecting young woman."

"You really are in a foul mood," he commented, the corners of his mouth pulling down in disapproval. "Are you really going to continue henpecking me about that night?"

Her eyes went flat and she stared at him. "Henpecking? Really? All things considered that is a very poor word choice."

"If I choose to poke fun at my own personal discomfort, I will. Remember dearest you only suffered the embarrassment that night, I still have the scars."

She huffed and then paused as if weighing the truth in his words. "It left scars?" she asked. Her eyes swept the length of his person.

Jareth cleared his throat and avoided her eyes.

Her lip dropped down into a small gape. "I didn't know that," she said.

He shifted from one foot to the other. "Yes, but never fear: the goods still function. Properly. In case you were wondering."

"Sorry," she offered a little sheepish. "I don't want to fight, I really don't. Maybe you should just leave me alone tonight. I'm not the best company."

A smart man, a discerning man would do just thought, Jareth thought standing there in her dimly lit room. This girl always proved to make things complicated; provided too much drama to his already chaotic life of goblins and wish granting. How many times does a man allow a woman to wreak havoc on his kingdom, his life, and his very person before saying enough is enough? But then again, he enjoyed the free entertainment.

Apparently she had truly enjoyed her most recent boyfriend and his breaking up with her had caused her legitimate distress. Valentine's Day had gained traction over the decades as being a desirable and important date on the calendar to many a young mortal heart. All things taken into account Sarah Williams was having a very bad day. Jareth decided that he was feeling generous in light of the circumstances: with a graceful flourish of his wrist he produced one of his crystals. "Sarah, make a wish," he instructed her indicting the orb.

Her eyes flickered to the crystal. "What's this going to cost me?" she asked shrewdly.

"The cost is that one day you return the favor. Should I ever come to you lamenting some love lost, that you will be there to comfort me and offer a distraction. Now." He paused, rolled his shoulders and pursed his lips. "What could help this day to end better than it started?"

A sudden get away to a tropical island. A full body massage. A re-ordering of time to gain back this last boyfriend. Any sort of fantasy, was a wish away. He knew it. She knew it. But Jareth also was fully aware of how little she took magic for granted these days. That the breadth of her wish would have to be returned in kind, so she had better choose wisely.

Sarah met his gaze. "A bubble bath," she said evenly. "In a giant garden tub with sandlewood candles and maybe some of my favorite music playing in the background. Throw in a shoulder rub too."

Jareth smiled. "Done!" he said, and turning around he tossed the orb through her bedroom door. The spell was cast. He felt her hand on his arm.

"Thanks," she said and gave him a gentle squeeze.

He stayed in the bedroom as she hurried on out to enjoy her bath and shoulder massage. Hefting the bag of chocolates he had confiscated, he examined the contents and decided he wanted to sample one. One turned into two which eventually turned into about four of the confections. He was considering piece number five, when he finally heard her scream and begin cursing his name. Silly woman had forgotten to be more specific especially regarding her shoulder massage. The Helping Hands were very good masseuses. Licking his sticky thumb and shrugging his shoulders he vanished from the room.


End file.
